


Office Orcs

by Aelia_D



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Exophilia, Explicit Sex, F/M, It all turns out okay though, Jealousy, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Office Romance, Orc/Human Romance, POV Second Person, Romance, Size Kink, Spanking, Teasing, Teratophilia, Voice Kink, ex partner drama, orc romance, original writing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 04:37:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14927273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelia_D/pseuds/Aelia_D
Summary: When a gorgeous new orc transfers to your office, you can't quite resist flirting with him. It quickly becomes much more than that. -Modern Orc/Human Reader Romance-(I'm awful at titles, but give it a chance.)





	1. Chapter 1

The new transfer from the New York office is a well-dressed, fast-talking orc. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and wears a well tailored suit better than any man you’ve seen before. Your eyes follow him across the office as he introduces himself to everyone. His haircut probably cost what you make in a week. He moves with the assurance of a man who has found his place in the world. He fills his suit well, and you desperately want to know what’s under it.

He stops at your desk, and you can’t help letting your gaze drag along his form as you look up and up until you can meet his eyes. He’s smiling, and there’s something dark and knowing in his gaze.

“I’m Alexander,” he says, offering his hand to shake. His palm dwarfs yours, and you feel a shiver travel down your spine. A jolt of pure  _want_  assaults you.

You know you manage to say the right things, tell him your name, exchange a few well wishes for your ability to work together in the future, because the VP traveling with him as they cross the floor toward the roomy corner office smiles. As soon as he’s gone, you can’t remember a word of what you’ve said, and for the rest of the day you don’t manage to get a single thing done.

For obvious reasons, you see him around the office, but it sometimes seems like you bump into him a lot more than average. There’s the inevitable small talk, but there are a lot of opportunities to just  _look_  at him and appreciate the view. He definitely notices, and you catch him watching you as well. The small talk becomes more flirtatious, but mostly it stays light.

One Monday morning, your boss lets you know you’re being moved to a new desk. Something to do with Joseph from accounting leaving and management wanting to take the opportunity to shift where team members sit. You’re not overly concerned; you don’t have a lot of personal effects and everything else should transfer automatically when you login.

It’s a pretty sweet setup, if you’re honest. You’re more out of the way than you were in your old cubicle; you’re further from the elevators and things, closer to the small break-room that you prefer, and since you’re near the end of the corridor, you don’t get a lot of traffic. So, while some of your coworkers are bitching about the shuffle, you’re pretty content back here.

Alexander seems to be nearby even more than he has been in the past several weeks, and in the afternoon, you finally realize that your nice secluded cubicle is right across the corridor from his office. It seems you’ll be seeing a lot more of the handsome orc. Things are definitely looking up.

Mid-morning Tuesday is when you realize two things. The first is that when the blinds are open in Alexander’s office, he has a clear line of sight from his desk to where you sit at yours. The second is that he is watching you.

You’re taking a moment to stretch, your arms above your head, with your back arched and your breasts sort of jutting out when you notice that he’s staring. He doesn’t look away, or pretend to be doing something else, and you see him smirk at you.

If you’re a little more deliberate with the way you move, if your pencil skirt, which is a completely appropriate length normally, is hiked a little further up when you sit down, so he can just see the line of lace at the top of your nylons, you’ll never admit to it.

On Wednesday, when you get up to refill your coffee, you glance over at him. He’s on the phone, leaning back in his chair, one hand behind his head, the other holding a pen that he’s drumming against a legal pad in his lap. He’s focused on whatever’s being discussed, so you allow yourself a moment to really enjoy the view.

His suit jacket is hanging on a hook by the door, his sleeves are rolled up, revealing powerful forearms, with just a hint of black tattoo ink visibly curling over his gray-green skin. His hands are large, seeming to dwarf anything he holds. The pen he taps in rapid staccato against the yellow paper is tiny by comparison.   
  
He shifts in his chair, and you realize he’s caught you staring. His brow quirks up. You raise your empty mug to him and gesture, as if you were merely thinking of getting him one as well. The smile he offers you in return is too knowing, but all he does in response is mouth the words ‘yes please.’

You have no idea how he takes his coffee, though you do know he  _does_  drink it. He usually has the fancier mugs from the management lounge upstairs, or paper cups from the cafe in the lobby, though. In the tiny kitchenette you fill a mug– the most ridiculous one you can find, featuring a curly-lettered inspirational phrase– and grab a couple packets of creamer and sugar just in case.

He’s just wrapping up his phone call when you get back. He hangs up the phone with a relieved sigh and his entire attention is on you when you hold out the coffee.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the mug from you. He reads the side and rolls his eyes with a snort. “I appreciate the erm… encouragement.”

“I thought you’d enjoy that one in particular,” you say, passing him the cream and sugar you brought. “I wasn’t sure how you like your coffee.”

“Black is usually fine, but if the coffee from this breakroom is anything like in the New York office…” he takes a sip and grimaces. You stifle a laugh. “Yep. With cream is good here. Thank you.”

“I expect you to return the favor at some point,” You say. “I like my coffee with cream and sugar.”

You turn away from him them to head back to your desk. Maybe you put a bit more swing in your hips than you normally would, hoping he appreciates the view. It’s been a while since you’ve been around anyone  _interesting_  enough to be worth teasing.

Thursday morning he delivers coffee to you, some of the good stuff from upstairs, lightened with cream and sugar. He leans over you to set it on your desk, brushing against you in the process. Alexander is definitely looking down your shirt, you realize. You smile up at him coyly.

“Thank you.” You murmur. You take a sip, and make a small noise of pleasure. This coffee is far superior to the stuff down here.

“Of course,” He says with another of those sexy smiles. “I had to make sure you were taken care of.”

When you get back from lunch he’s leaning against your cubicle, a folder in his hand. He very slowly looks you up and down, heat in his gaze. It’s a caress, and you’re glad you wore one of your more daring outfits today. You get closer to him than you need to when you enter your cubicle, just brushing against him.

He smells good. All warm man and expensive cologne. You want to lick him.

Instead, you take your seat, and turn to face him, crossing your legs very deliberately in front of him, teasing him with a glance and letting your skirt slip further up your thigh than you would otherwise allow.

He audibly swallows, his gaze locked on your thighs. You decide to push the envelope further, and shift in your seat, causing the fabric of what is otherwise an entirely appropriate work skirt to drift high enough that he can see where your garter belt fastens to the lace of your stockings.

“Can I help you, Alexander?” You purr.

All at once he seems to remember himself. The look he gives you is positively smoldering. You feel yourself get wet in response.

He steps into your cubicle, making the space seem incredibly small. One large hand grabs the back of your chair and spins you to face your computer monitor, before he places a file on your desk and leans over you. His arms cage you in, his cheek nearly brushes yours.

“You are a  _very_  bad girl,” he murmurs into your ear. His voice is deep, rougher than it usually is, and oh gods you want to hear him like this more often. “Bad girls who continue to tease me may find themselves  _punished_.”

You barely manage to stifle a moan, and you know he hears the hitch in your breathing. His tusk brushes against your cheek, and you shiver all over, remembering that Alexander is a  _very large_ orc. You shift in your seat, pressing your thighs together tightly.

Across the office, a door opens and shuts as others begin returning from lunch. You feel his stance shift, and suddenly he is not looming quite so much, the distance between you is far more professional.

“I’d appreciate if you could look this over for me,” The tone of his voice is controlled, and though it’s not quite normal, it’s not what it was just moments before. He taps the file he’s placed on  your desk. Then, he scribbles a phone number down on a post-it. “If you have any questions, just text me. My phone is usually near me.”

“Sure thing,” you say. Thankfully, your voice is fairly level. “I’ll get on that as soon as I can.”

“Thanks,” Alexander doesn’t say anything else, instead returning to his office. He closes the door behind himself, and when you glance over, you notice the blinds are closed.

You allow yourself to imagine him leaning back in his chair and undoing his pants. He’d release a large erection, just a shade darker green than the rest of him. He’d stroke it, thinking of you, of your lace stockings and the way you’ve been teasing him. In your fantasy, he has a pair of your panties in his other fist, and he smells them. You bite your lip, and shake your head to clear that thought.

You’re going to be useless for the rest of the day if you can’t clear your head. Imagining him masturbating in his office, just a few feet away from you isn’t going to help that at all. You fight the temptation to slip away to the ladies’ room and deal with your own arousal. Instead, you choose to drag out this sweet torture, you focus on the words on your screen, determined to get more work done.

There’s a spreadsheet, and a word document, and both of them are important. You need to finish these up and get them emailed to the right people. You manage to get a little bit of work done, despite the fact that your mind keeps drifting back to a certain gorgeous green man in the office behind you.

It takes about half an hour for you to give in and text him.

_You >> What sort of punishment?_

You set the phone down, and try to get more work done. The second it vibrates on the desk though, you grab it.

_Alex >> That ass of yours definitely needs a spanking._

Oh fuck. You imagine yourself stretched across his lap, those huge hands of his spanking you. You squirm in your seat, and glance at the clock. Two hours until you can go home.

You’re not going to make it. Fuck this. You grab your phone, lock your computer, and head to the bathroom. You lock the door behind you and immediately shove your hand in your panties. Yep. Dripping wet. Soaked through. You slide your fingers over your clit, your hips thrusting helplessly. It doesn’t take much for an orgasm to crash over you.

You swallow your screams. You have to be quiet. You keep stroking, wringing another orgasm out of yourself, quick on the heels of the first as you imagine him standing there watching you touch yourself like this.

It doesn’t take too long for your heartbeat to slow back down and your breathing to calm. You clean yourself up as best you can. You remove your soaked panties, tucking the lace-edged cotton into your pocket.

Only a few short minutes have passed since you left your desk, and already you have ideas of how to escalate this inappropriate game of yours.  Thursday afternoons, the managers have a meeting in the conference room on the fifth floor. Alexander is stuck in that meeting for at least  the next half hour if the meeting doesn’t run long.

When you return to your desk, you’re pleased to see that he is not in his office, and the blinds are still drawn. You slip in quickly, and deposit the blue-and-white polka-dot fabric in the second drawer down in his desk. It’s nearly empty, which assures you that he seldom checks this drawer.

You’re hard at work at your desk when he returns to his office about an hour later. You glance up at him and smile, but make it clear that you’re busy. You want him to be in there so he can find your present as soon as possible. It’s difficult, you’re not sure how you do it, but you wait a few minutes for him to settle in before you text him.

_You >>  Check the second drawer._  
_Alex >>  You are a very bad girl._  
_Alex >>  [Photo of his fist holding your panties, which look very tiny.]_  
_Alex >>  Get in here._  
_You >>   What’s the magic word?  
_ _Alex >>  Please._

You glance around the office. About a third of the people on this floor have already headed home– they come in early, they leave early– and everyone still here seems to be hard at work. You pick up a file and head over to Alexander’s office as though everything is normal. You knock, and enter without waiting for a response.

“Lock it,” his voice is rough. Demanding. You do as he says without hesitation. “Come here.”

You cross the office, enjoying the way he watches you, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth set in a firm line. You step into the space between his thighs, and find that with you standing and him seated, your eyes are almost level.

“Before this goes any further, are you sure this is what you want?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say. You have actually given it thought. He’s your superior, but he’s not in your direct chain of command. He’s proven to be professional– you’ve had to sit through a few meetings with him, and while he’s flirtatious when it’s just the two of you, he’s never crossed a line anywhere it could actually hurt your career– and you find that you trust him.

“Pick a safe word,” he says, drawing you closer, until your body is actually pressed against his.

“Fraternization,” you say.

He snorts, his head falling forward to rest against your sternum. You give into the urge to run your fingers through his hair, mussing his incredibly expensive haircut. His hair is soft, the strands like silk.

“Pick a word you can say when you’re stuffed with cock,” he says, not moving his head, allowing you to continue stroking his hair. His voice is that deep rumble again, rich with need and you love the sound of it. His words are just enough to make you shiver, which makes him chuckle.

“How about teapot,” you don’t think you’ll find yourself in a situation where you’ll be uttering that by accident.

“Should be good,” He cups your jaw, and draws you to him, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that you know you have both been thinking about for a while. His tongue is almost immediately there, pressing against the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. You moan, and then he’s thrusting into your mouth in a hot promise of what is to come.

Alexander skims one hand downward, trailing it along your neck, the side of one breast, your waist, your hip. He grabs your ass, eliciting another moan. He chuckles into your mouth and deepens the kiss. The hand grabbing your ass squeezes tighter, and you squirm.

He breaks the kiss, and lifts you onto the desk. When his lips find your neck, and his tusks scrape against the sensitive skin, you moan again. He growls, and you whimper. Your hands are still tangled in  his hair, you use it to draw him closer. You feel his teeth nibble on you, and you make a noise that he seems to appreciate because there’s another low rumble.

He pulls back, and looks at you again, his breath coming in ragged pants. His skin is flushed, a darker green than normal, his pupils are dilated with desire. You’ve done this to him. It makes you feel powerful, to have brought this giant orc to this point.

“I owe you a punishment, but I’m not sure that this office is soundproofed enough,” he says. “So get on your knees.”

You lower yourself slowly, not wanting to hurt yourself. You hike your skirt up to allow you to spread your legs a bit wider, to make the position more comfortable. The position reveals the top of your stockings, and part of your garters to him. Alexander eyes the area with interest.

He shifts in his chair, and your eyes go to the massive tent in his pants. He undoes his belt, and releases his erection from his trousers. His cock is bigger than you’d imagined, a darker green than you expected. It’s large, thick, and veiny. There’s a piercing. Ooh, you hadn’t anticipated that. You want to lick it.

You lean forward, eager to touch. Your fingers are mere inches from his cock when he speaks.

“Good girls ask,” he rumbles.

“May I please touch?” You manage to murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. You’re certain you look quite the sight right now, with your lips red from kissing, your skin flushed, and your skirt hiked up around your hips as you kneel at his feet.

“Only with your mouth,” he says.

It’s enough for you. You’re moving forward, pressing your palms into his firm thighs and holding yourself up as you stroke him with your tongue. He’s warm, and a bit salty with sweat, but it’s not unpleasant. Rather, you find yourself wanting more, licking hungrily along his length. His fingers find the clip in your hair, letting it loose before they tangle in it, grabbing a fistful and using it to guide you to the tip.   
  
You open your lips wide, managing to take his cock into your mouth, but only just barely. You bob your head with enthusiasm, taking more of him with each move. You know your jaw is going to be sore, but this is worth it. He groans.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs, his voice ragged. “Mmmm, you’ve been dying to taste this all day, haven’t you?”

When you don’t respond, he tugs on your hair, pulling you back, away from his cock. You moan. He’s so deliciously large, and you want to please him, want to drive him crazy so he bends you over his desk and he fucks you. You imagine the stretch and the pleasant burn that will come with it. You meet his eyes, and you can see the desire there.

“When I ask you a question, I want a response,” He growls, his voice is rough, dark and you can hear the lust in every syllable. He trails his fingers over your cheek gently. “Have you been thinking about my cock?”

“Yes,” You manage to gasp. “I was thinking about you in this chair, jerking yourself off and thinking about me.”

“Mmm, I did do that,” He presses your face back toward his cock. “I thought about this, about having a dirty little slut kneeling between my knees, sucking me off, dealing with the hard-ons she’s been giving me all week. Your endless teasing, fuck.” You suck hard on his dick, and his voice breaks. “I’ve imagined you bent over my desk, too. I’ve imagined eating you out, feasting on that delicious pussy, and then you gave me your panties and I now I know how you smell.

“What a dirty girl you are.”

You moan in earnest as he presses your head down, gently, just enough to test the waters. You go willingly, so he presses harder, and his massive cock hits the back of your throat. You fight the urge to gag, swallowing around him. But you can’t quite handle it. You tap his thigh and pull back. Spit trails from your lips to his cock.

“Are you alright?” He asks, all gentle concern. You nod, and lean forward, but he stops you with a gentle tug to your hair.

“Yeah,” you say when you realize he’s waiting for you to speak.

He pulls you up and kisses you hard. His lips are demanding, bruising. You love it.

“Turn around, lift your skirt and bend over the desk,” You do as he says, placing your palms flat on the wood. He runs his finger along your slit which is positively dripping with need. “Look at this beautiful little pussy. Do you want me to touch you?”

“Please,” you say, wiggling toward him. He smacks your ass quickly, not hard, but it’s enough to shock you into stillness. You bite back a moan.

“Hold still. Be quiet.” His finger parts your folds and finds your clit. It’s like a bolt of electricity through your body. You spasm, and have to bite your lip to keep in a scream. He strokes it again, and you nearly collapse against his desk. You’re so fucking close. “Are you going to cum?”

“Yes,” you whisper. He presses a finger into you, filling you, then there’s two, and you’re stretching around him. You’re so wet there’s no resistance. His thumb strokes your clit again, and you’re falling apart, shaking and nearly seeing stars you come so hard.

“Fuck, baby, that’s beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing kisses against the back of your thighs and your ass.“Such a good girl.”   
  
“Look at me,” he says. You turn your head, responding more to the ragged need in his voice than the words themselves. His hand is glistening with your juices, and he’s stroking his cock with it. He’s pulled his shirt up over his belly, and it’s so fucking hot watching him touch himself. “You’re so fucking hot, I’ve thought about doing this. Touched myself to thoughts of you, and here I am, on the edge and you’re right here in front of me finally.”

“Cum for me,” you say, and he does. Spurts of white goop splatter all over his belly. You rise from his desk, leaning over him and giving him another kiss on his lips. You let your lips trail over his neck, and very deliberately leave a hickey below his collar, marking him. Then you drop back down to your knees and lick his belly clean.

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs, “So fucking good.”

Alexander pulls you up for a gentle kiss this time, and helps you straighten out your clothes and your hair. He reassures you that you look exactly as you did when you walked in, and he gives you a stack of folders to justify having been in his office for this long.

You help him straighten up his clothes, too. You smooth his tie down, and ensure that his hair is once again combed into his precise style.

You’re both absolutely professional.

Except for your panties in his pocket, but that’s your little secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this originally on my tumblr:https://aelia-likes-monsters.tumblr.com/post/169982966466/office-orcs-part-one
> 
> If you're on there, give me a follow. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Friday morning you’re exhausted.

You’d spent half the night chasing sleep, trying to settle your restless mind, your restless body. You kept thinking about what had happened with Alexander, you couldn’t turn your brain off. You were too warm under your blankets, but too cold without them. You couldn’t find a comfortable position, and the few times you’d managed to drift off, you’d woken up from dirty dreams. When your alarm had finally gone off, it had almost felt like a mercy.

You stagger into the office, coffee from Starbux in hand, not really ready to face the world. You manage polite smiles, and appropriate greetings, and most of your coworkers are content to let it go with that. A few ask how you’re feeling, but you wave it off easily. It’s just a bad night’s sleep, nothing that caffeine and maybe a lunchtime nap can’t cure.

You nearly collapse into your chair, resisting the urge to just sag over your keyboard and sleep. It’s unlikely anyone but Alexander would notice, and he kind of owes you. Instead, you stretch, hoping the movement will help you wake up.

It doesn’t, but you’re determined to get through the day. Slowly but steadily you manage to get into your groove, drinking your coffee and making a dent in the heap of work that you need to close out before the weekend. You notice when Alexander comes in, and you even manage to smile at him, but he looks as beautiful as always and it drives you a little crazy that yesterday wrecked you and he’s still perfect.

It’s about 11:30 when he comes by your desk, one of the nicer executive mugs in his hand. He’s holding a plate that matches the mug, and on it is a danish with some sort of red fruit in the middle. He sets it down in front of you, and squats to bring himself closer to your eye level.

“You okay?” He asks. His voice is still that rich rumble you’re coming to love, but it’s gentle and full of concern.

“Yeah,” you say, mustering a smile. “I’m just tired, and there’s a lot to get done.”

He lifts one of his giant hands and caresses your cheek. You lean into it, enjoying the slight roughness of his palm, the way his fingers curl around your ear and catch your hair. His thumb trails across your lips, and you can’t quite resist the urge to nibble it. Alexander groans quietly, the sound full of need.

“Fuck,” he manages to groan. “We can’t do this right now. I’ve got to get to a meeting.”

He steals a quick kiss though, his lips hot and needy against yours. When he pulls back, some of your lipstick– a berry that is gorgeous with your skintone, but a bit odd on him– is smudged on him. You wipe it off, though you enjoy the visual; you like the idea of him being marked like that. He captures your wrist and brings your hand to his mouth to place a kiss on your palm.

“Drink the coffee, take it easy. I’ll bring you some more after the meeting. And maybe some lunch?” He’s trying to take care of you, and it’s so fucking sweet but you’re also a bit overwhelmed because this wasn’t at all what you expected when you gave him your panties.

“Lunch would be nice,” you say with a smile. “Something easy to eat. My jaw is a bit stiff for some reason…”

He grins at you, the look is wicked, sexy. You want to jump on him and have your way with him. You hear the quiet murmur of other voices, the clacking of keys, the sound of someone sniffling nearby. Normal office noises that remind you that the cubical you work in offers more of an illusion of privacy than actual privacy. There’s nothing explicitly written in the employee handbook against fraternization, but you don’t exactly want to become the talk of the office.

“I’ll be by a bit later with coffee and lunch then,” He stands, an straightens out his jacket. With one more smouldering glance sent your way, he leaves.

You sip the coffee, and throw yourself back into your work. As nice as that brief distraction was, and as surprisingly effective as Alexander’s presence was at giving you a jolt of energy, you’ve got more work to do than you can handle today. You’re probably going to have to work late.

You hate working late.

The danish and coffee are long gone, their tastes not even memories when Alexander interrupts you again with lunch.

“I thought we could move into my office for lunch, so you don’t have to disturb any of your papers.” He gestures to where you’ve got stacks of papers, highlighted and marked up strewn across every available horizontal surface. There’s a method to the madness, though it wouldn’t be apparent to anyone but you.

“That would be best, yeah.” You’re not even thinking about the door, or the privacy. You’re genuinely only thinking about the fact that he has a white deli bag in his hand, your stomach is growling, and his massive wood desk is nearly empty. The minimalist office does have some advantages.

He closes the door behind you both. Slides the lock into place.

He pulls you into his arms and gives you a hungry kiss, devouring you. His lips slide over yours, his tongue thrusting into your mouth, tangling with yours, and though it only lasts a moment, it leaves you almost dazed. You’re both breathing a little harder when he pulls back.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he says by way of explanation. Once again, your lipstick is smudged all over his lips, and you realize that if this continues you’re really going to have to buy the more expensive stuff that doesn’t smudge, or you’re going to have to forego it entirely. You wipe his mouth clean again. He chuckles.

“Gotta feed you first. I got a bunch of stuff,” he pulls a variety of containers out of the bag, and for a moment you wonder if it’s enchanted. You can’t quite believe how much food was packed in there. “Pick whatever you like and I’ll take the rest.”

“Thank you,” You say. You grab a container of something that looks good and chow down. He does the same with what’s left, and for a little bit the two of you just share a space. You make small talk, and none of it is forced. It’s surprisingly comfortable, which in turn makes you somewhat uneasy. You had hoped for a hookup, maybe an arrangement where both of you could have a little fun without too many strings attached, but Alexander’s trying to take care of you, and you’re finding that you’re really enjoying it.

This could get complicated fast.

Food is gone with plenty of time left in your lunch hour. When the takeout containers have been stuffed in the trash, he grins at you. It’s that lecherous grin you’re learning to like a lot. You feel heat building low in your belly.

“Come here,” he says, more of a request than a demand. You come closer, and squeak in surprise when he abruptly pulls you into his lap. One hand wraps around you, supporting your back as you sit sideways on one strong thigh. His other hand comes up to stroke your cheek, before running his hand down your neck, to the collar of your shirt. He starts undoing the buttons singlehanded. You let him. “I’ve had my lunch, but I think I’d like some dessert.”

“That was cheesy,” you say with a small laugh. He shrugs, and focuses on getting your shirt open.

You lean in and kiss him, brushing your lips against the corner of his mouth, and taking a moment to enjoy nibbling on his lip right where his tusk peeks out. You run your tongue long the seam of his lips, but when he opens his mouth to allow you entry, you move elsewhere. You feather kisses along his cheek, moving toward his neck, where you nibble on the tender spot behind his ear.

He groans in pleasure. Your shirt is open enough that he can see your bra– you think you put on one of the peachy floral ones this morning, but it doesn’t really matter– and he slides his fingers underneath, swirling the tips of his fingers around your nipples.

“Mmm that feels good,” you moan into his ear. He pinches your nipple, and you arch into his hand with a gasp.

Alexander tugs the cups of your bra down enough to reveal your breasts to him. He seems to drink in the sight with a grin for a moment before he brings his face to them and licks your nipple. You mewl and squirm in his lap. He gives the other side the same treatment, chuckling.

You feel his erection pressing against your thigh.

“I want to taste you,” he says. His voice has that ragged edge to it that you know means he’s loving this as much as you are. You squeeze your thighs together, wanting to feel some pressure on your suddenly desperate pussy. Everything about him, about this is so fucking hot you feel like you’re going to combust. “Take off your panties and sit on my desk.”

You do as he says, not even bothering to tease him, tugging your pencil skirt up around your waist and pushing your panties down your hips with a little shimmy. He holds your eyes as he kneels on his own floor and presses your thighs apart. He lifts your right leg, sprinkling little kisses and nibbles along your ankle, your calf, your knee, your inner thigh. He takes his time working his way toward your needy, dripping core.

But then he’s there, and his face is so close and you can’t help whining in desperation and barely resisting the urge to press forward toward him. He chuckles, and blows on you, the cool puff of his breath against your heat enough to make  you whimper again. Alexander gets you so worked up so easily.

His huge hands grip your thighs, spreading you wide enough that your hips nearly ache and it’s delicious. He rubs his cheek against your leg, his tusk leaving a small red line along the tender skin above your stockings. You barely manage to hold yourself up, but you’re watching him, and he’s so fucking beautiful. His dark hair and smooth green skin there between your thighs is an amazing sight.

And then he’s licking along your dripping slit, and you’re gasping his name and your head is falling back. He digs in hungrily, his tongue sliding between your wet folds easily, teasing your clit and drawing out gasps and moans that you’re desperately trying to keep quiet enough that the whole office doesn’t hear you.

Alexander releases your leg. A moment later he slides one large finger into you. His hands are so big, so good. You love every moment of it as he thrusts into you again and again. A second finger joins the first and you can’t help the long, low moan that rips out of your throat. You feel the stretch and between the feeling of his fingers inside you and his tongue still teasing your clit you’re on the precipice of an orgasm when he pulls his mouth away.

“Noooo”  you whine.   
  
“Not yet,” he says, sliding a third finger into you. You feel so, so full and it’s so good but it’s not enough for you to cum without someone touching your clit, so you’re stuck on the edge. The tension continues to build in your body as he thrusts his fingers into you.

He adds a fourth, and the moan that tears out of you is hoarse and desperate. You’re so close but you’re not there, and you’re panting and moaning and you’re desperate for more. You just need the lightest brush to your clit. You move one hand from where it’s supporting you, determined to do this for yourself, but he catches your wrist in one giant hand.

“No.” He kisses your palm and holds it as he thrusts four fingers into you. He’s watching his hand as he thrusts into you, and his focus is so intense that you think he’s probably as needy as you are right now.

A phone rings, the noise jolting you out of the moment.

Alexander curses. He releases your wrist, and with his clean hand grabs the phone. He locks eyes with you, and continues thrusting into you slowly, keeping you just on the edge.

“Hello, you’ve reached Alexander,” he greets the person, his fingers still pumping into your pussy. You bite down hard on your lip, trying to stay silent against the onslaught of sensation. As they speak though, his eyebrows draw down and he frowns.

“Ah, that’s not good,” He says after a moment. He withdraws his fingers from your pussy, and presses them to your mouth. You suck on them hungrily, tasting your own juices on his fingers. “I’ll be there shortly.”

He hangs up the phone, rises to his feet, and grabs the back of his head with both hands. He’s tense, and the sigh he lets out is long, but doesn’t seem to offer any relief.

“Emergency meeting.” Alexander says after a moment.. He’s clearly frustrated, but he’s gentle with you when he presses a kiss to your lips, and begins helping you put your clothing to rights. “I have to be in the boardroom in 10 minutes.”

“Damn it,” you say, your frustration clear. He’s standing between your thighs again and he’s so big and warm and close and you just  _want_  him so badly. “Their timing sucks. Can you tell them you’re already booked?”

He laughs, and presses your foreheads together, his giant hands cupping your cheeks. He breathes deep, clearly holding on by a thread. He lingers longer than he probably should, but you need this, and so does he. You stroke his cheek.

“I wish I could.” He kisses you again, then steps back, straightening his clothes, adjusting himself within his pants. His massive erection is still straining the fabric.

You want to offer to help him out with his _problem_  but you also sort of want him to suffer with you. So you focus on getting your own clothes buttoned up and straightened out. You adjust your stockings, tug your skirt down over your hips and legs, conveniently “forgetting” to retrieve your panties from where they lay on the floor under his desk.

Unless someone is sitting in his chair, nobody will see them; his desk is solid and the back is entirely enclosed. You’re confident that it will be a nice little reminder of what will be waiting for him later.

Alexander gives you a once-over, straightening your clothes where you’re still a bit rumpled, and you do the same for him. You drag your thumb over his bottom lip, collecting the last of your lipstick. He closes his eyes and clearly fights with himself for control.

A mere five minutes after your interruption, you’re ready to go. Physically the two of you are a mess, but your clothes don’t show it, and that’s the important part.

“No cumming between now and when I return,” he says, in whispered command before he leaves. He’s using his commanding voice, all deep and rough. You love it. You also sort of hate him in that moment for remembering to say anything at all.

He heads to his meeting, and you return  to your desk, frustrated, denied an orgasm that had promised to be incredible, and furious with the people who had dared to interrupt. Your fingers slam into your keyboard with more fury than is probably necessary for a few minutes before your mind drifts to more pleasant thoughts.

There are so many things you want to do to him, and so many things you want him to do to you, that it’s easy to get lost in the fantasy. You catch your mind wandering down a dirty path, imagining him lifting you up, gripping your thighs with his huge hands and fucking you against a wall, his massive length filling you, stretching you. You know it will be amazing. Just the small taste you’ve had of what he has to offer is enough that you’re certain that he’ll be amazing when you finally manage to fuck.

But fantasizing about Alexander isn’t getting any work done, and it’s not helping you get out of here any sooner. You get back into your groove, focusing on getting as much work done as fast as you can. You’re going to have to work late, that is very much reality at this point, but maybe if you get enough done, you’ll still have time to relieve some stress with an certain orc who has been driving you wild. 


	3. Chapter 3

By four, most of the office has emptied out and there is still no sign of Alexander, but you’ve at least made a dent in the mountain of work that piled on your desk. You’ve prioritized things that must get done today, and really you’ve got maybe another hour and a half of work, it’s not as bad as you’d feared it would be earlier.

When you’d managed to keep your mind off a certain green-skinned tease, you’d done a pretty good job of keeping yourself moving, making progress. There had been a few moments where you’d gotten lost in fantasy again, but overall you managed to stay on course. The fact was, reality was  _definitely_  going to be better than any fantasy you’d come up with so far, and the sooner you got your work done, the sooner you could begin enjoying reality.

At five-forty, when Alexander is still not back, and your work for the night is done, you know things are bad. You head over to his office and verify that yes, his personal belongings are still stashed, his jacket is still hanging where he forgot it several hours ago. He’s coming back. You haven’t somehow missed him leaving the office. You write him a quick text, letting him know that you’re not done for the night– a lie, but a well-intentioned one– but that you stepped out for some fresh air, and that he shouldn’t go anywhere if he gets back while you’re out.

You call in an order at the Italian place down the street, which should be ready about when you get there. It’s a nice night, and the cool air is refreshing after an entire day spent sitting in an office under fluorescent lights with recirculated air. You retrieve dinner- and a slice of cake for _actual_ dessert, you’re still not sure you’ve forgiven him for that cheesiness at lunch time- and make it back to the office in no time flat.

Alexander steps out of the elevator just as you poke your head into his office to check on him.

“That was awful,” he says, once you’re close enough to each other that he doesn’t have to shout across the floor full of empty cubicles. “If I never have to sit through that many meetings about one person’s idiocy again, it will be too soon.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. He looks tired, and though you feel a little stab of disappointment, you think that maybe tonight it’s better if you just eat some dinner and head to your own homes.

“What smells good?” He asks. He spots the takeout bag in your hand, and his smile lights up his whole face. Your stomach does a flip in response. “Did you get us dinner?” His smile turns predatory, and he steps closer, into your personal space. His voice drops lower. “You’re such a _good girl._ ”

Oh gods what this man can do to you with just a few words. Immediately you’re turned on again, hot and ready to go as if it hasn’t been hours since he last touched you. His voice is addictive, the way it rumbles in his chest, the way his words have a rougher edge to them when he’s aroused. You could absolutely get used to this.

This is dangerous.  

“Let’s eat,” you say, and you’re shocked your voice isn’t shaky. You’re breathing faster, and you’re sure your skin is flushed, but you at least manage to control your voice. You try to be sexy, lowering your voice a little when you say “I need you to be at full strength, after all.”

The response is immediate.

His hands grip your waist. You’re off your feet, dragged into his office and pressed against the wall. He grabs your ass, gripping you with bruising strength as he holds you up. His body is between your thighs, you can feel his heat against your core. His mouth is on yours,  _claiming_  you and there is nothing gentle about this moment. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you devour him in return. Your lips part, and his tongue invades, thrusting into you, making you moan with want as he demonstrates with his tongue exactly what you want him to do to you later.

He pulls back, panting, his eyes dilated,  _want_  in every line of his body.

“Fuck,” he manages to say, his voice ragged. He presses his forehead to yours, his grip easing a little, though his fingers are still digging into your butt. He still holds you against the wall, every muscle in his body tense. Slowly, ever so slowly he lowers you to your feet, and steps away. It’s clear it takes actual effort for him to do so.

“Sorry,” He continues, with a rough laugh. He looks embarrassed. “I lost control.”

“I didn’t mind,” You say, your chest absolutely heaving with panting breaths. His eyes track the movement, and for a second you think he’s going to pounce again, but he doesn’t. You want him so badly. Every part of you is craving his touch right now, and it’s like your body is on fire for him.

You want to see him lose control again.

Instead, he keeps himself reigned in.

Alexander retrieves the bag of takeout from where you dropped it– you don’t remember dropping it, but there it is on the ground, and for an instant you feel bad– and sets it on the desk. Much like at lunch, he unpacks the food, laying it out on the wooden surface. He peeks inside the containers, checking to see what kind of deliciousness you’ve brought.

“Take your pick,” you say, now that your heart rate has slowed down a bit and your breathing is under some semblance of control. “I wasn’t sure what you like so…”

Like at lunch, you fall into an oddly intimate rhythm. You’re comfortable together. The banter flows, and the two of you just seem to work together in a way you would never have anticipated. You like similar TV shows, you may not read the same books, exactly, but there’s just enough overlap that you can discuss some of the things you’ve been reading recently, and it’s just… nice.

Nice makes you nervous. You were hoping for some fun, maybe someone who was into something a little more interesting than vanilla sex, but not a complicated entanglement. This has all the earmarks of something that could become emotionally complicated. You’re not sure that either of you is prepared for that.

Still, you certainly don’t mind the view as you eat your dinner. Alexander has discarded his tie and rolled up his sleeves. His forearms are bare, and you can again see hints of tattoos curling over his exposed skin. You want to trace those lines and see where they go. You want to know what he’s hiding under his shirt. You’ve seen some of his belly, signs that he might work hard in the gym, but you want to know what he looks like naked.

He finishes his food, leans back in his chair, and regards you over steepled fingers. He is still somewhat tense, the line of his shoulders is tight, but he’s more relaxed than  he was when he first returned from his many meetings.

“You remember the safeword?” He asks, his voice serious.

“Teapot,” you respond with a nod, feeling a clench low in your belly. You have never experienced this before, this desire drawn out over hours, allowed to flare up before being banked multiple times. You feel almost like you’re going to explode, like you’re on the edge already, and all he’s done is say a few words.

You squirm, and Alexander quirks a brow at you. He’s easing into his dominance, and you kind of love watching it. It’s the way he adjusts how he’s sitting, how he moves, how he speaks. It’s a dozen little things that you see him adjust as he settles into the role. It’s fucking sexy, and you enjoy seeing this side of him.

“I owe you a punishment, and we’re finally alone.” He holds your gaze with his own, and you almost feel like you could get lost in  his eyes. “Have you been spanked before?”

Your voice has deserted you. You feel like you’re about to combust. You’ve allowed yourself to fantasize about being turned over his knee and spanked. Now that it’s about to become a reality, it’s like your brain has short circuited. He searches your face, concern clear. When he realizes that you’re turned on, not upset, he grins. It’s gone in a flash, the serious expression back, but that flash is enough.

“I expect an answer to my question,” he says. Gods how you love the way his voice sounds when he’s being stern with you. It’s that rough rumble, with an edge to it.

“I haven’t been spanked,” you say. His eyes are sparkling now, but his lips remain set in a firm line.

“Really?” His voice is almost a purr. “With your atrocious behavior I’m surprised. I’ll certainly enjoy being the first to spank that gorgeous ass of yours. Come here.”

He changes how he’s sitting, spreading his thighs so that you can drape yourself across him. You aren’t graceful, but you manage to lay across his lap, and after he adjusts you so you’re positioned how he likes you, Alexander hikes your skirt up, his large hands stroking the soft skin on your ass and the back of your thighs, teasing you, building the sensation.

“How many do you think you deserve?” He asks, that husky purr still teasing you. He continues caressing your ass.  You enjoy the feeling of his hand, the way his rough skin drags against yours. Your ass is soft, and the skin is more sensitive than you realized, and the gentleness of his touch is already driving you crazy. You’re not sure how you’re going to get through this.

“One?” You say, knowing you’re not going to get away with just one. He laughs, and smacks your butt lightly.

“Try again,” He continues rubbing, and you wiggle, enjoying the feeling. He slaps again a bit harder. “And hold still.”

“Five?” You try hard to hold still, but between the anticipation and the heat building in your core, and the way his hand continues stroking you, it’s hard.

“Hm.” He grabs your ass, his giant fingers digging into the soft flesh in a way that is slightly painful, but which you love anyway. You imagine his giant handprint on your ass, perhaps as a bruise, and your skin flushes. You want this. Want him. “Five sounds good. And you’re going to count them.”

“Okay.” You bite your lip and look back at him. He looks intense. And hungry. You love it.   
  
“Eyes ahead. Don’t bite your lip or you’ll get hurt.” He says when he catches you. “Count out loud, and you’ll thank me after each.”

“Yes, sir,” You say. He growls in approval, and though you haven’t discussed what you should call him, or even what your roles really are, if he likes it, you’ll keep using it. You feel his erection pressing into your side, and have to fight the urge to wiggle more.

His hand leaves your ass, and you brace for impact, but it doesn’t come immediately. He lets you wait, the suspense is part of the game, you know. And then he’s spanking you, and the sting makes you gasp, but it’s not more than you can handle.

“One,” you say. His hand is already rubbing again, the light, feathering caress a sharp contrast to the stinging. “Thank you.”

He pulls his hand away and spanks you again without hesitation, twice in rapid succession, in the same spot, on the roundest part of your butt. The noise you make is completely instinctive, somewhere between a whine and a moan. The sting is greater when they’re faster like that, but the spanking is noisier than it is painful. Your skin feels warmer, and you are panting, your hands gripping tightly to the base of his chair.

“Two, three, thank you,” you count. You fight the urge to squirm. You know moisture is running down your thighs at this point. You’d be embarrassed maybe if you weren’t so turned on. Had someone asked you if you were into spanking, you would have shrugged and said no, but this is hot.

“Already starting to glow a little,” he murmurs. He presses down on the spot where he spanked, that bit of pressure eliciting a moan from you.

He lifts his hand away, again taking his time, making you wonder when the strike will come. He doesn’t wait too long, and this time you can’t help the involuntary thrust forward of your hips when he lands another blow. You make a mewling noise and he presses his left hand into your back, holding you down. His right hand, the one he has been spanking with, strokes your skin, the contrast of pain and pleasure leaving you gasping for more.

“Four, thank you” you’re panting as though you’ve run a race.

He draws his hand away, not waiting, the strike landing right near where the others were. Your skin feels hot, your pussy is dripping, and you’re making lewd noises as you pant and gasp in his lap. You’re a complete mess, and it is hard for you to form words. He waits, his hand caressing your hot skin, his form still, carefully controlled.

“F-” you start. “Five. Thank you.” You manage to say.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs. His hands smooth over your burning skin, the touch causing an aching pleasure. You squirm now, unable to hold still any longer. He chuckles, and his fingers delve into your dripping folds. “You’re so wet. You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you say. 

“Mmm, I liked when you called me sir,” he says, his fingers still just teasing you, stroking along your labia, not touching your aching clit or filling your empty pussy. “Say it again. Ask for an orgasm.”

“Please sir, I’d like to come,” you say.

He strokes your clit once, just a brush of his finger, and that’s all it takes for you to orgasm, your pussy clenching around nothing and sensation overwhelming you. It’s intense, and the noise you make– somewhere between a moan and a scream– is new. You’re left boneless, sprawled across his lap panting.

“Good?” He asks with a chuckle.

“Very,” you answer. You look up at him. “You’re not done yet, are you?”

“Not in the slightest.” He answers. He grins at you, and you push yourself up to claim a kiss.

Your lips meet his hungrily, sliding against each other with need that is nowhere near sated, even after an incredible orgasm. You press your tongue against the seam of his lips, and when he opens the way, you press forward. Your tongues tangle together, his hands running along your body, seemingly unable to settle in any one place. He’s cupping the back of your head, stroking along your waist, gripping your sore ass in that startlingly nice pain-pleasure blend you’re enjoying, he’s all over you. You’re all over him, too. You’re running your hands through his hair and working to unbutton his shirt. You want to see him shirtless, need to see what his tattoo looks like, need to lick him all over.

He pulls back and gulps in air as you finish unbuttoning his shirt and start sliding it down his shoulders. His dark eyes meet yours, hunger clear in his gaze. He shrugs out of his shirt, and drops it to the ground. You drink in the sight of him, the expanse of dark green skin, the dusting of hair across his pecs. He’s muscular, but it’s not overly defined. It’s a balance you appreciate.

You reach up and touch him, letting your fingers trail along the skin you’ve wondered about. His tattoo curls up his right arm, along his shoulder, and onto his back and chest. It’s black ink, swirled against his green skin. You step forward, feeling dwarfed by him when you barely come up to his shoulder, but it puts you at the perfect height to lean forward and lick him.

Your tongue brushes across one flat nipple, and as it pebbles beneath your tongue he growls. You continue touching him, stroking lightly with your fingers. His muscles tense as he clearly fights to hold himself still and allow you this moment to explore. You lick a little higher this time, over a bit of skin stained with ink. He catches your hand in his. Your hand is tiny in his massive one, and as he draws it away, you can tell that he’s struggling to keep himself in check.

You love this.

“Take off your clothes,” he says, his dominant voice back.

“Yes sir,” You grin at him, and begin stripping, drawing it out a little, teasing a little, but you want him too badly to really make a game of it. Your skirt and blouse and bra are quickly discarded, a small heap of fabric unwanted on the floor. You undo the garter, and remove it and your stockings, and then you are naked.

He stands and undoes his belt and pants, freeing his erection. You eye it again. His dick is glorious and huge, and you want it in you.

“Turn around, bend over the desk.”

“Yes sir,” You do as he says.

He kneels behind you, presses his lips against your sore ass, and then begins stroking you again, his fingers delve into your pussy, filling you up. You’re so wet that there’s almost no resistance to his fingers, and you’re so turned on that it takes only a few thrusts for him to stretch you. He thrusts four fingers into you a few times, and you press back against him with a moan. You love this feeling, but you want more.

He withdraws, and moves away. You whimper, and he chuckles in response.

“Are you ready for my cock?” He asks, standing behind you. There’s the sound of crinkling plastic, and you look back in time to see him roll a condom over his dick efficiently. Then he’s gripping your hips, and you feel the head of him nudging your entrance.

“Yes  _please_.” You grin at him over your shoulder.

He laughs, and then presses forward. You stretch around him and he’s big, so big. It’s uncomfortable at first, but the discomfort gives way to pleasure, and you love the way it feels as he fills you, the pressure building. You change the way you’re holding yourself up, and reach for your clit, circling it slowly. You want this to last, want to draw this out as much as you can.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice ragged. Alexander’s voice is barely more than a growl as he continues to talk to you.  “You’re so tight, and so wet, and gods you feel amazing.”

He pulls back, and you whimper because gods the  _friction_ and he’s so huge and it’s wonderful, and then he’s pressing forward again, and this time he’s going deeper and you’re so  _full_  and you’re touching your clit and you’re so fucking close to another orgasm. He moves in a slow, steady rhythm, and you can hear in the way his breathing gets rougher, and the way he pants your name and swears that he’s getting closer.

You feel your own climax building, and you know that with each ragged pant you’re making mewling noises, gasping and moaning. He feels so fucking good inside you, and you’re touching yourself just right, and this is far better than you had even dared to fantasize about.

He picks up the pace, his grunts becoming more desperate, the noises he makes and the way he murmurs your name gets more ragged with every thrust. You continue to tease your clit, but slowly, not wanting to come too soon, wanting to wait until he’s right on the edge.

He’s pounding into you, and you’re slamming back against him, and this is loud, far too loud for in the office between the unmistakable noises of fucking and the gasping and growling and grunting and all the sounds that the two of you are making. You hope to the gods that nobody comes back because they forgot something, but that little edge of fear about getting caught is enough to cause you to clench, and you’re cumming around him and he’s coming undone into you, as well.

He slows after you both cum, pumping into you a few more times. You’re both panting, coated in a thin layer of sweat. You feel empty when he finally withdraws. Your legs are shaky, and you wonder how he’s standing. He deals with the condom, wrapping it up and stuffing it in the trash. He wipes off his dick, and puts his pants back on. You watch this, vaguely interested, from where you lay on his desk, your cheek cradled on your arms, not yet ready to do anything.

Alexander glances over at you with a chuckle, and comes over with some napkins, wiping up the liquid off the back of your thighs. He scoops you up, lifting you into his arms and holding you close as he settles in his chair. You’re snuggled in his lap.

“You’re so fucking good,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Mmm,” you manage, lifting one hand up and idly running your fingers over the swirls of his tattoo on his chest.

The two of you stay like that, him holding you, stroking you gently for a while.

Eventually, reality calls. You’re still in the office. You need to get dressed and go home and shower. You have a dozen things you needed to do after work tonight and though some of them can get pushed back, others cant. You extricate yourself from his lap. Both of you get dressed, and as before, you help each other straighten up your appearances.

He gathers up his things, including the trash from his office. Your shared meals more than overflow the bin, and there are things that you don’t want anyone to find. You grab your purse and shut down your computer. Together, you walk to the parking lot.

He pauses near your car.

“I’d like to take you on a proper date,” he says.

“I’d like that,” you reply. “I need to check my schedule, but I’ll text you later to let you know when I’m free and we can find a time that works.”

“I look forward to hearing from you.” He doesn’t risk a kiss, you both know there are too many cameras down here, but the look he gives you is smoldering.

You know you’ll be thinking about that look later.


	4. Chapter 4

You’ve been seeing each other outside the office for a few weeks when the subject of the conference comes up. It’s a networking opportunity for Alexander, and he thinks that you’d benefit from the chance to meet with some of the industry players if you were given the chance to go.

Sure, the idea of spending a long weekend at a hotel far from here with Alexander has some appeal, but the two of you could do that somewhere that is less risky. This seems like a genuinely good career move, so you email your boss and ask him to consider sending you.

When he lets you know that you’re approved, and sends you all the paperwork vis-a-vis per diems and airfare and registration, you realize that this is really happening. You’re going to a conference on the company’s dime with your… boyfriend? The two of you haven’t really put a name to it, but you’ve been seeing each other somewhat seriously for a bit now, so you’re not sure what else he would be.

You drop Alexander a text, letting him know that you’ve got some good news. He doesn’t respond immediately, but you know he’s sequestered in another one of his meetings. You’re excited to tell him that both of you are going to the conference as soon as he’s free. Until then, you’ve got work to keep you occupied.

The day passes before you know it, and for the first time since this whole thing started, you don’t get to see Alexander. You glance at his office before you pack up your things. He’s still not back. The office is emptying out, and though it’s tempting, you don’t stick around.

_– Yesterday –  
_ _You (14:02) >>  I’ve got news!  
_ _You (17:48) >> Heading home. Hope everything’s okay. I know meetings suck.  
_ _You (17:49) >> Don’t look in the second drawer tonight. Save that for later. <3  
_ _You (22:12) >>  Goodnight. <3  
_ _– Today –  
_ _You  (05:48) >>  Everything okay?_

By morning, when you still haven’t heard from him, you’re more than a little worried. He’s usually good about texting you back. Your stomach churns with anxiety as you get ready for work and you hurry into the office. There’s no sign of Alexander when you finally reach your desk, coffee in hand.

You try to focus on work, but between his absence and the silence, your head isn’t really on the task in front of you.

At around half past nine, Alexander arrives, looking exhausted and stressed. He has a coffee in his hand, and a gorgeous human woman walking behind him. He doesn’t even look your way before he heads into his office. The woman follows him, and he closes the door behind them.

There’s no reason to be jealous; there are plenty of gorgeous women who work in the office, and he would have legitimate cause to be in there with any of them. But a small, ugly part of you rears its head up and begins gnawing at you. He hasn’t spoken to you since yesterday and now he’s sequestering himself in his office with someone else? A woman who looks like a model, someone who you  _wish_  you could look like? And he’s ignoring you?

Disgusted with yourself, you rise from the desk and grab your purse a little more aggressively than you perhaps need to. You need to step away, not sit here and stew. A trip to the cafe downstairs for a fancy latte should give you a chance to clear your mind.

As you walk past the receptionist, she waves you over.

“Did you hear?” Rebecca asks, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“Hear what?” You’re almost afraid of what has that look of wicked glee on her face. She doesn’t know anything about you, or she wouldn’t be talking to you, but your stomach is sinking. The only thing that makes her this happy is Drama with a capital D.

“There’s another new transfer from New York,” she pauses for dramatic effect, knowing she’s got you on her hook. “She got here yesterday.” Another dramatic pause. “She’s Alexander’s  _ex-girlfriend_.”

You’re going to be sick. You feel your stomach drop to your feet, and you pray nothing shows on your face while you struggle for a heartbeat to find the words. Office politics are your forte, but right now you can’t do this.

“Huh. Wonder what’s going on with that,” you say, feigning disinterest. A petty part of you wants to say something about the woman maybe being a stalker, but you know that will just end up blowing up in your face. What’s going on today is purely professional. The rational part of your brain knows that. But the rest of you? The rest of you is a jealous, insecure mess right now.

“I hear she’s the  _reason_  we have rules against interoffice dating.” Rebecca says.

“Is that so?” You say. “Well, I’ve only got a few minutes to grab coffee before the boss-man notices…”

“Oh, of course!” Rebecca smiles at you. “Don’t let me stop you.” Her voice drops to a stage whisper. “I’ll keep you posted!”

Relieved that you can escape, you make a dash for the elevator. The coffee run doesn’t kill nearly enough time. Despite focusing on your breathing, and even trying to listen to the muzak and identify the song, you’re not really feeling any better by the time you make it back to your desk.

Alexander’s office door is still shut.

You grab your stuff and head to one of the “Focus” rooms on the 4th floor. You still have work to do, and though it’s tempting to be “sick” for the rest of the day, your pride won’t let you. That doesn’t mean, however, that you have to sit in front of his office door and be hyper-aware of his presence.

Your boss emails you a list of the people from the company attending the conference. There’s four names. You, Alexander, a Jessica, and a Matthew. You don’t know Jessica or Matthew.

Your phone vibrates.

 _Alex  (11:46) >>  Heard you’re going to the conference._  
Alex  (11:46) >>  Heard you’re going to the conference.  
Alex  (11:46) >> I’ll be flying out Tuesday.

You frown, and pull up the dates of the conference. It runs Thursday and Friday. You’re approved for a hotel room Wednesday through Friday night, based on the agenda of the conference. He’s going a day early? And he still hasn’t actually apologized for not responding? While you’re looking, more messages come in.

 _Alex  (11:46) >>  Meetings were awful._  
Alex  (11:46) >> I’ll be flying out Tuesday.  
Alex  (11:46) >>  Busy tonight.  
Alex  (11:46) >> Everything’s fine.

Nothing makes sense.  

_Alex  (11:48) >> Everything’s fine._

No. It’s not fine.

The rest of the day is a fog. You know you get work done. You don’t remember it. You power through what should be your lunch break, finish your tasks, and head out. You don’t stop by your desk; everything you need is in your purse or on your laptop anyway. You can’t stand to see Alexander, or his closed office door.

You didn’t want something complicated. You didn’t want to get pulled in, but things have been really good between you. You thought both of you were on the same page, that he was as into you as you were into him. But this makes you wonder if you’ve been wrong all along.

In the elevator, you run into _her_. As if your day wasn’t shitty enough already, you found the icing on the damn cake. You’re tired, you know you must look like shit; when you’re this upset, it tends to make you look awful. Your eyes are puffy from the tears you’ve been trying not to shed, and your nose is red.

“You’re not sick, are you?” She asks, looking down her perfectly sculpted nose at you.

“I might be.” You say, running with the excuse. “Probably not contagious though. I think it’s just something I ate. You’re the new girl, right?”

“Yes,” She says. “Jessica. Forgive me for not offering a hand but…”

“It’s fine.” You didn’t want to touch her anyway. “I hear you’re from New York? What brings you to our backwater office?”

“I’m getting married,” she says, and holds up her hand. She’s wearing a gold ring with a giant diamond on it. “It’s easier to plan the wedding when you and your fiance are in the same state.”

“So it is,” you say.

The elevator arrives at the first floor. The doors open. You manage to make it to your car before you break down completely. Ugly sobs wrack your body as the magnitude of everything that has happened in the last day hits you. Just two days ago things were good. They were  _so good_. And now you’re watching it all fall apart around you.

Jessica. Her name is Jessica. Is she the Jessica going to the conference? Is she the reason Alexander is flying out a day early? You haven’t seen him for more than a moment, and haven’t actually gotten to speak to him in too long. But maybe it doesn’t matter. He’s apparently engaged. And he never told you. You can’t stop crying.

You don’t end up driving home that night.

You can’t pull it together long enough. Instead, you use a rideshare app, and when you see it’s close, you dart outside and climb in. Thanks to the technology that lets you input your address, you don’t have to talk. You just stare out the window and watch the city pass you by.

At home, you order delivery, make a nest of blankets on your couch, and pick a dumb RomCom. You don’t really watch it, you just sort of stare in the direction of the screen.

The worst part, you tell yourself, is that you had thought things were going so well. You thought that you were both having fun, and that he was as into you as you were into him. The fact that that’s not the case, and that his “ex” isn’t his ex? You don’t even know what to do with that information.

The doorbell rings. You open it without checking to see who’s there. A mistake you haven’t made in years.

It’s not the delivery man.

“Babe?” Alexander is standing outside your door.

You slam it in his face.

Why is he here? You don’t want to deal with this right now.

The door opens again.

“Sweetheart?” He steps into your apartment, closes the door behind himself, and then seems to take in the state you’re in. You see his eyes widen as his gaze travels from your face- which doubtless has a full raccoon-eye look from the crying- to the rest of you. You’re in an oversized shirt and boxers. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” You ask, the hysteria bubbling up rapidly. “What’s WRONG? How about the fact that you didn’t answer my messages all day, and when I saw you you ignored me. I had to find out from someone else that your supposed-ex is here at our office. She’s going to the conference, and she’s apparently your  _fiance_.

“And now you’re here calling me ‘sweetheart’ like everything is fine?!”

Alexander buries his face in his hands. He lets out a long breath, and then sort of sags. When he looks up at you, it’s clear that he’s shaken.

“She  _is_  my ex. She is  _not_ my fiance.” He meets your eyes. You take a step forward despite yourself. “I left my phone in my office yesterday when I was in those meetings, and didn’t grab it before I went home. I’m sorry for that, I didn’t think one night would be a problem, but I didn’t realize you had such important news. I was excited to hear you were going to the conference.

“I’m sorry,” He says. “I can leave, if you want me to. I just… you weren’t there when I checked on you, and you didn’t answer your phone and your car was still at the office but you weren’t…”

He looks shaken for the first time since you met him. In all these weeks, he’s been calm and collected. It is perhaps that look on his face that makes you close the gap between you and hug him. His arms immediately come around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You cling to him, burying your face against his chest. He is warm and solid, and it’s exactly what you need.

He scoops you up and walks over to the couch. He sits without letting go of you, though there’s a bit of resettling as you get comfortable in his lap. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Today was awful.” He finally says. “But there’s still some stuff I think we need to talk about.”

“Yes.” You nod. “But can we be immature and hold off on that?”

He laughs, and catches your chin, tilting your face up. His dark eyes meet yours. His lips curve up in a smile around his tusks. He places a gentle kiss against your lips.

“No. You know we need to talk about this, and once it’s over with, we can have some fun. I hear make-up sex is the best part of fighting, and I think this counts as our first fight.”

You manage a giggle.

“Right.” You shift so you can look him in the eye more easily. “It definitely counts. I’ll call you names to get our blood boiling so the make-up sex is hot.”

“You do that, and I’ll have to spank you again,” he warns with a smile. For the first time since this whole thing started, you see him start to relax.

“Sounds like a plan,” you say.

“So, why is the first thing that your mind goes to jealousy?” He asks. “Have I given you reason to doubt?”

“No.” You respond. You’re not ashamed, but this is an ugly feeling that you don’t like exploring. “It’s not you, exactly. I’ve been cheated on, and I’ve been ghosted, and this felt a lot like both of those. So even though I knew you were better than that, enough of me was screaming that that’s what was going to happen that I was having trouble. And then I ran into Jessica in the elevator and she said she was here to plan her wedding and I couldn’t hold it at bay any longer.”

“Ah.” He rests his chin on top of your head. “And the fact that I hadn’t responded to text messages since yesterday and hadn’t acknowledged you when I was talking to her earlier didn’t help.”

“Yes.” You agree. “Any one of those things alone would have been fine but all of them together was too much.”

“The good news is, I think we can avoid this again in the future,” He said. “I don’t have any more exes that should be making random appearances, and I promise that except where specifically discussed and approved, I am a one-person man.”

“And if you leave your phone at the office, you’ll email me, or call my house phone, or send a carrier pigeon, or  _something_  so I know you’re not blowing me off deliberately?”

He laughs.

“We can maybe discuss that when you’re feeling less tender about it.” He pulls back, and looks into your face. “Mistakes happen, and we’re not going to have contingency plans for everything. But I’ll do what I can, and I know you’ll do what you can to keep building the trust between us until there’s no reason for a night without contact to make either one of us worry.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you say with a small laugh.

“Yeah, but that’s what you love about me.” He jokes.

“It is.”

He freezes. He shifts so he can meet your eyes, and when his gaze meets yours you see the question there. Had things been different, you might have taken time to play with him, but in this moment, you don’t.

“Yeah, you big dummy. I love you. I wouldn’t be this upset if I didn’t.”

“Ah fuck, sweetheart. I love you, too.” He pulls you into a hungry kiss. His tusks frame your face as his tongue delves into your mouth, tangling with yours. One hand cups the back of your head, his thick fingers threaded through your hair. You respond in kind, your arms coming up around his neck, pulling him closer as you suck on his tongue until he groans.

His fingers curl into a fist in your hair, and tug your head back. You moan as you arch away from him, giving him better access to your throat. He nibbles his way down to your collar, then kisses his way back up to that spot beneath your ear.

“I’m going to fuck you hard tonight, love,” he murmurs. Your physical response to his words is instant. You’re wet and aching and ready for him already, and all he’s done is kiss you and make a dirty promise.

“First I have to say I’m sorry for letting my insecurity get the best of me,” you say.

“And I have to apologize for all the small things I did that added up.”

“Okay. We good?” You ask. When he nods, you grin. “Alright. I believe I promised to call you names. How do you feel about being a ninnyhammer.”

“A what? Sweetheart you’re going to have to stick to insults I know the meaning of. I am but an Orc, simple and bad at words.”

“No you’re not. You’re choosing to be dumb.”

“There we go.” He says, as if you’ve actually insulted him. “Calling me dumb is the last straw, now I’m going to have to spank you.”

You giggle, and make as if you’re going to run from him. He easily grabs you and slings you over his shoulder before dragging you to the bedroom. You squirm and pretend you’re trying to get away. He slaps your ass. You bite back a moan. Why you like this so much you don’t know, but you really do enjoy it.

“Hold still, brat.”

He tosses you onto your bed. You land with a bounce, and grin up at him. You see him bite back a smile in response.

“You’re going to get up, take off all your clothes, and bend over the bed.” He says. As always, you see him shifting into his more dominant role. The way he stands and speaks to you changes subtly, but it’s perfect.

“Yes sir,” you say. You do as he says, sliding off the bed quickly. You fuss a little with disrobing, but doing a striptease in an oversized shirt and boxers is more of a challenge than you’re up to tonight. Still, the way Alexander watches, you know your effort is appreciated. His mouth may be set in a stern line, but his dark eyes sparkle.

When you bend over, he steps up beside you. One large hand presses down at the nape of your neck, and runs down your spine. His skin is dry, his hand is warm, and the feel of him touching you, even just like that, is enough to make your breathing speed up more. He takes his time, touching you all over. He strokes your rear, runs a hand along your belly, tweaks your nipples and makes you gasp.

“You’re so pretty like this, waiting for your punishment.” He murmurs as he leans close. “It’s almost a shame I have to spank you for calling me dumb.  _Almost_.”

You’re panting now, and you know you’re already dripping with need.

“Ten tonight,” he says. “Count them and thank me.”

“Yes, sir.” you respond.

The first comes quickly, the sting sharp and sudden, the noise loud. It doesn’t hurt much, but the first few don’t usually.

“One, thank you.” You say.

The second, third, and fourth continue in much the same fashion, loud, and stinging, but not really hurting. He caresses you, clearly enjoying the opportunity to touch you as you count and thank him.

The fifth lands with a hard slap right on top of the same spot he’s been smacking all along, and the gasp that escapes your lips is one of pain. But it’s good, so good.

“Five, thank you.”

Six and seven are in different spots, gentler again. Eight is harder, but again, it’s good. You’re gripping the duvet on your bed in white-knuckled fists as you struggle to stay still. Your skin is burning, and you know you’re moaning with every spank, but the way it hurts feels  _so good._ Moisture runs down your leg from your dripping pussy. You’re a mess, and you love this.

The ninth one slaps the juncture of your ass and thighs where it really stings. The skin there is more tender. You gasp, and jump despite yourself.

“Nine, thank you.” You say.

“Doing okay, sweetheart?” He asks.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

His huge hand smooths along your skin, pressing down on sore,  heated spots where you’ve already been spanked. You moan and try not to squirm. His hand lifts away, and comes down one final time on the same spot he spanked first.

“Ten, thank you.” You gasp.

“You did such a good job, your cute little ass is practically glowing right now.” he says. He leans down and presses a kiss to your lower back. “Stay right there, though. I’m not done with you yet.”

He runs his hands over you once more, down your back, over your ass, lingering where the skin is warmest. He shifts, and you feel him press kisses to the warm skin. Oh. This is new. But you like this a lot.

“Such a good girl,” he says. He dips one finger into your dripping pussy, and teases your clit. You’ve been riding the edge this whole time, and the combination of him praising you and touching you is enough to send you over the edge into an orgasm that leaves you weak-kneed and gasping for air.

He keeps going, thrusting his fingers into you and finding next to no resistance since you’re so wet. You whimper when he removes his hand from you. He shifts, so you can see him again. He’s licking your juices off his fingers.

“Tell me sweetheart, what do you want?” He asks.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I’m walking funny tomorrow,” you say.

In response, Alexander growls.

“Then get on the bed, on your back. Hands on the headboard. Legs spread. Do not move.” His voice has gone ragged, and you know he’s holding on by the barest thread of control. You love when he’s like this. His movements are jerky as he removes his clothes. He doesn’t fumble any buttons, but he’s in enough of a hurry that he nearly does. You love that you do this to him.

His jacket, shirt, and pants are all tossed aside. His tie he carries over. You drink in the sight of his massive frame. His rich green skin, his muscular body, the tattoos that swirl over his arm and chest. Your favorite part though, is the huge erection that juts away from him, bobbing with every step.  You lick your lips as you watch him approach.

“I can tie you to the headboard, or I can blindfold you. Which do you prefer?” He asks, stretching it from massive fist to massive fist.

“Tie me down,” you say. You like watching him too much. You love seeing his face, the way his brows knit and his lips purse as he slams into you. Perhaps another night you’ll let him blindfold you. But not tonight.

He reaches up and takes both your wrists in one of his hands. The silky fabric knots around you, tight enough to hold you there, but loose enough to not cause damage. You tug against it, and when he glances at you asking for confirmation, you nod. You’re good. You’re secured to the headboard until he releases you.

He shifts, and kneels between your spread thighs. On another night he might lick you until you screamed, but tonight he lifts you up and slides a pillow under your hips. One of your legs gets hooked over his shoulder, the other over a hip. It’s an angle that the two of you have found to be fun for both of you.

He rubs his cock against you, sliding it through your folds, covering it in your juices. You’re so wet for him already tonight that you barely need any prep. Still he teases you though, rubbing the tip of his penis against your clit, chuckling darkly when you jerk beneath him at the feeling, almost like a shock.

Alexander takes his cock in his fist and lines it up with your entrance. Ever so slowly he begins pressing into you. You’re soaked, but this part the two of you always take slow; he doesn’t want to hurt you. One thumb begins circling your clit the way you like, with his other hand, he reaches up and begins playing with your breasts.

There’s a lot of sensation overloading you. The sensation of stretching, of being filled. The twinges of the nerves in your clit as you rush toward another orgasm, the thrum of pleasure as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. You arch beneath him, trying to get more of him inside you, trying to hurry this along.

In response he lightens his touch and stops moving, teasing you.

“Who’s in charge here?” He asks. His voice is rough, deep and ragged. You love the way he sounds when he’s trying to maintain control.

“You are, sir.” You say.

With that, he thrusts hard into you, apparently satisfied by your answer. He pulls back, and thrusts again, picking up the pace, fitting more of himself inside you with each thrust. When he’s all the way inside you, he stops moving except for his fingers. He pinches your clit, and tugs on your nipple, and that’s enough for you to orgasm again.

He starts moving as soon as you begin breathing again. He’s pounding into you fast, chasing his own pleasure, using you. There’s a wicked part of you that really enjoys when he uses you for his own pleasure like this. He changes positions, leaning forward more, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head. The angle change inside you has you gasping; it feels so good. It’s not enough to cum from, but it’s incredible regardless.

Your knee is pressed up near your face, opening you up to him more. His eyes lock on yours.

“I’m going to cum in you.” he informs you. You clench on him at that statement. You’ve both been tested. You’re on birth control. You’ve discussed this, but you haven’t done this before. Until now, you’ve used condoms. You know if you said no, he’d do something else, but you want this.

“Yes please, sir.” You gasp.

Alexander thrusts a few more times, harder, more intensely. His face tightens, his eyes close, and he groans as he slams hard into you. You feel him release, feel the heat of his semen as it fills you. Your belly flutters. It’s a good feeling, but still not enough for another orgasm.

Alexander shifts, lifting himself off you, and freeing your leg. He releases your hands from where they’re tied, and pulls you into his arms.

“You good?” He asks, glancing down at you.

You bite your lip. You’re close, really close, but you’re not quite there. It was fun, and you’d be fine without another orgasm. Until Alexander, you hadn’t dated a man who would have cared if you were actually good or not, but you know he cares deeply that you enjoy yourself.

“That face says you’re not.” He gives you a small squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

“I wanna cum again,” you say. “I’m close, but that wasn’t enough.”

“I can hold you close like this and finger you until you cum, or you can climb up here and sit on my face,” he says. “Whichever you want more.”

You think about it, and then turn in his arms, so your back is pressed to his front. He takes the hint. He palms your breast in one hand, and begins playing with your nipples more, while his other hand slides between your legs, parting your folds once more. He teases your clit slowly, building it up. You gasp and moan in his arms.

“You’re so sexy when you’re like this,” he murmurs into your ear. He rubs his face against you, and you feel his tusks, and the softness of his cheek. He’s tugging on your nipple again, and he’s holding you so tight as his finger teases your clit.

And then another orgasm claims you, finally. He keeps going, gently, until it becomes clear that you’re coming down from it. Then he nuzzles up against you.

“I love you,” he says.

The two of you doze for a little bit before hunger wakes you. You glance at the clock. It’s 8:30. You ordered delivery hours ago, and it should have arrived. You look for your phone on the nightstand before realizing it’s in the living room. They probably called. Well, shit.

You slide out of Alexander’s arms, waking him  a bit in the process. He blinks a few times before seeming to realize you’re getting out of bed. You tug on the t-shirt and boxers again, and pad out into the living room to find your phone. Three missed calls from a local area code. Two voicemails.

When you check them, you sigh. Yeah, they took the food back to the restaurant. Damn.

“You hungry?” You ask, glancing at Alexander. He’s standing in your bedroom doorway wearing nothing but his slacks. It’s a look you could get used to.

“Yes. Let me take care of ordering dinner though. You go take a bath.” He says. “Let me take care of my girl.”

So, for the rest of the night, you do.


End file.
